Defending Camp

26

Maybe he should have had Mandy go through the back window he’d just smashed out.

No, it was better this way. There wasn’t much room to squeeze through. It was hard to get the glass out of the edges.

She’d have been exposed.

Max looked up from where he squatted in the tiled-over pickup cab. Mandy’s butt was disappearing through the window.

No one from the SUVs had appeared.

Not yet.

All Mandy had to do was get to cover.

Max was more worried about her than he was himself.

He had his rifle ready. He kept it in the middle of the two cars, not knowing who’d exit first.

Mandy was out of the car.

“Go!” shouted Max.

One of the black SUV doors opened. Passenger side.

Max was quick. He took aim.

Hopefully Mandy was sprinting. But he couldn’t keep his eyes on her and get off a good shot at the same time.

A man appeared out of the SUV. He held a handgun that he leveled towards a target away from Max. Obviously he was aiming at Mandy.

The man was lowering his arm, his elbow bent.

Max was quicker.

He squeezed the trigger.

The shot rang out.

Max had hit him. He didn’t have the time to see whether it’d been lethal.

Hopefully it had at least disabled him.

All Max had to do was buy Mandy enough time to get to cover where she could return fire.

Then Max could get out of the truck.

If they got that far.

Max was waiting. Waiting for the SUV doors to open.

These men couldn’t have been professionals or else they would have acted as a team.

Instead, Max imagined them waiting inside the SUVs, goading each other to get on out. Maybe they were picking straws or something, trying to decide who was next.

Well, if they were going to take their time, Max was going to take advantage of the situation.

Max climbed up through the cabin of the pickup, following the path Mandy had taken.

It wasn’t hard to do, except that his leg hurt as he tried to use it to push himself up.

He’d lost track of where Mandy had gone.

He threw himself over the edge, dropping down to the ground hard. Pain shot through his injured leg. He ignored it.

Max couldn’t see Mandy. She’d most likely gone to the trees.

Any second now, he expected a window to roll down or a door to open. But the black SUVs remained still. The backdoor to one of them remained hanging open. Their engines were still running.

Before Max could even take a couple steps in the direction where Mandy had probably hidden herself, one of the SUVs started forward.

It was driving fast.

Coming right towards Max. Bearing down on him.

Max lowered his rifle, aiming at the windshield, where the driver’s seat was.

He could have jumped out of the way. He could have run off.

But right now he had a clear shot at the driver. Even though he couldn’t see him.

If he could get off two clean shots, he knew he could probably take out the driver.

Max held his breath as he aimed.

The SUV’s engine was roaring. It was thirty feet away from him.

Max squeezed the trigger. The sound of the shot rang out.

A hole appeared in the darkened windshield.

The SUV kept barreling towards him.

Maybe fifteen feet away now.

Max might have killed the driver, his foot still pressing the accelerator. There was no way to know.

To be certain, he needed to get off another shot.

He squeezed the trigger again.

The SUV was even closer than before.

There wasn’t any point in worrying about the consequences or trying to calculate the odds. He’d already made his decision.

Another bullet hole appeared in the window, only a few inches from the last one.

Max dove out of the way at the last minute. He hit the pavement hard. His rifle fell from his hands.

The SUV sped past him.

Was the driver dead?

The SUV was off course, speeding towards the side of the road at an angle. It careened off the road. It didn’t flip like Max’s truck had. Instead, it dipped, nose down, right into the little gully. The back tires spun wildly, lifting up in the air.

Max glanced back at the other SUV. It was already turned around, heading in the opposite direction, away from Max and Mandy and everything.

The car doors of the crashed SUV opened rapidly.

Three men jumped out.

They had overgrown beards. They were dressed as civilians. One wore a track suit. Another wore a flannel shirt, and another was dressed like an urban hipster, with tight jeans and an ironic t-shirt.

They were armed. Semi-automatic rifles. They jumped down from the backseat, landing roughly on the ground.

Max needed to get to cover.

He only had a moment while the men recovered from their jump.

Max’s body was pumped full of adrenaline. His hands and feet were cold and his heart was thumping.

Where was Mandy?

A shot rang out, sounding like it was coming from the trees.

One of the men fell. The one with the flannel shirt. He hadn’t even made it up from the ground.

Max was dashing behind the flipped-over pickup. There wasn’t time for him to get to the cover of the trees. This would have to do.

Mandy had taken one of them out for him.

But the men were returning fire now, shooting into the trees where the shot had come from. Mandy had enough sense not to fire without having good cover, considering the numbers.

Taking fire, she wouldn’t be able to get off another shot unless Max distracted them.

Max got around to the other side of the pickup. Hopefully it’d give him the advantage of a slight surprise.

Max exposed himself, stepping out from behind the pickup. He had his rifle raised, his eye to the scope.

The hipster was in his sights. He saw Max before Max could fire the shot.

Max pulled the trigger.

No shot went off.

The rifle was jammed.

Max stepped back behind the cover of the pickup just in time. Gunshots in quick succession rang out.

It must have missed him by mere inches.

No point in thinking about it. Wouldn’t do any good.

Max checked the rifle.

It was useless to him now.

There were other rifles but they were in the pickup, inaccessible now that it was flipped.

Max tossed it to the ground and drew his Glock from its holster.

He wasn’t out of the Glock’s range. But his accuracy wouldn’t be as good.

He had to return fire soon.

The two men were shouting unintelligible things to each other.

A strong breeze blew through, ruffling Max’s hair. A cloud that had been covering the sun moved out of the way, and the sun shone brightly down on Max.

The sound of another rifle shot rang out. Mandy’s, probably.

Max didn’t know if she’d hit one of them or not. No cries or screams came.

Either way, it was time to move.

Max popped his head around the other side of the truck, his Glock pointed and ready, his finger on the trigger.

The hipster was running towards the truck at full tilt, leaning into his sprint, his gun held at his side in one hand. A bad move.

Max stepped out fully from behind the truck to get as clean of a shot as he could. The Glock was lowered and Max took careful aim. For the moment, he had to ignore the presence of the second man and the danger involved in exposing himself further. Sometimes to get something done, you had to put your head down and ignore everything but that one task.

Max squeezed the trigger. Twice. In quick succession.

One of the shots missed. The other hit the hipster right in the chest, destroying his shirt. He went down, his gun clattering to the pavement as he fell heavily.

Max didn’t know where the other man was. He ducked back behind the truck, holding his Glock pointed towards the sky.

There was a sound on the other side of the truck. Footsteps. A stick or twig breaking.

Max saw the man before he had time to lower his Glock.

He was close. Five feet away. He held his gun pointed to the ground, loosely.

Their eyes locked for a moment.

They were both raising their guns at the same time. Time seemed slow.

A crack rang out. Gunfire. A rifle.

The man dropped his gun, clutching his arm. He’d been shot in the upper arm.

So Mandy was still alive.

Max had gotten his Glock raised. He didn’t wait. He didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger.

The bullet struck the man in the forehead. A clean shot.

Max stood still, only moving to lower his Glock. His heart was pounding in his chest.

Was it really over?

He still needed to check the crashed SUV.

Navigating the area around the flipped pickup and the corpse, Max walked to where the SUV was tilted in the ditch. The engine was still whirring and the back wheels were still spinning. The SUV was four wheel drive, and the front tires were digging slowly into the ground, pulling the SUV slowly inch by inch.

Inside, there was no one but the driver. There’d only been the four men.

The driver was dead, slumped over the wheel, a bullet wound in his chest, which was stained with blood. His foot was still pressing against the gas pedal.

“Mandy!” called out Max. “It’s clear.”

Mandy was already exiting the cover of the trees, leading with her gun.

“You injured?” shouted Max.

She was still some distance away.

“No,” she called out, shaking her head. “You?”

Max shook his head. “Come on. We’ve got to get our gear.”

There wasn’t any hope in tipping the pickup back over.

Mandy was jogging over, as Max made his way back to the pickup, reaching into the bed trying to grab his pack, which was lodged in a corner.

“What are we going to do?” said Mandy. Her forehead was sweaty. She was pushing her hair back behind her ear. “Are we going to carry all this?”

“There’s a reason we brought packs,” said Max. “We’re not going to be able to get the SUV unstuck. We’re walking from here on out.”

“Shit,” muttered Mandy.

Max had gotten a hold of the strap of his pack and was about to pull it towards himself when he heard something.

“What’s that?” whispered Mandy. Her voice sounded full of worry.

Max turned around.

Down the road, coming from the way they’d driven, was the SUV that had driven away not long ago.

“Looks like round two,” said Mandy.

The SUV was driving fast. It swerved now into the empty oncoming lane, hugging the shoulder, kicking up dirt and plastic bags as if sped along.

Behind the SUV, Max could now see another car. It was an older model American made car, riding low to the ground. Which meant it was packed full of people.

There was no way they could fight them all off. They’d gotten lucky once. They weren’t going to get lucky again.

“We’ve got to go,” said Max.

“But our gear!”

“Now!” shouted Max.

He grabbed Mandy’s wrist and started pulling her away from the pickup.

He let go only as they both broke into a sprint. They were headed for the trees.

They had to make it.

Max’s leg was killing him. And it was slowing him down now. It was always worse the more exhausted he got.

But he kept at it. His arms were swinging. His boots were slamming into the ground.

Max glanced back over his shoulder. The vehicles were getting close. Too close.

Mandy made it into the cover of the trees first. Max followed.

They didn’t stop running. They had to slow down as they wove their ways through the densely packed trees.

There were no leaves on them. But they could hide behind the trunks, just as Mandy had.

“Behind the trees!” shouted Max.

Mandy was slightly ahead of him. She heard him, and darted behind a thick tree trunk.

Max did the same, pressing his back flat against the cool trunk. He was out of breath, and his chest was heaving from exertion. The only gun he had was his Glock.

He didn’t dare stick his head out. He waited, silently, glancing over at Mandy.

From the sound of it, both vehicles stopped instead of driving on by.

Maybe they were just stopping to see what had happened to the dead men. Or maybe to retrieve something from the crashed SUV. Or to pilfer the gear from Max and Mandy’s pickup.

Or maybe they were there to track down Max and Mandy. And kill them, for some unknown reason. This time with more men.

If they came after Max and Mandy, what would give them a higher chance of survival? Staying to fight? Or fleeing?

Max’s leg was killing him. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was slower than he should have been.

But they couldn’t stay to fight. There was no way they’d make it.

Without seeing what was going on, Max had to guess what was happening from the noises.

Car doors slammed closed.

“Get the gas!” someone shouted.

No talk yet of finding Max and Mandy.

“You got a lighter?”

What did they want a lighter for?

Silence for a long minute.

“Give me that!”

Someone said something else, but Max couldn’t make it out.

“Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here!”

Max glanced over at Mandy. She was watching him with wide eyes, her eyebrows raised. She looked nervous and afraid.

A couple car doors slammed.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang. Sounded like an explosion.

What had happened?

Max heard the vehicle engines starting, and he heard the unmistakable sound of them driving off.

“Are we in the clear?” whispered Mandy.

“Sounds like it,” whispered Max. “I’m going to check.”

He stood up. He led with his Glock, getting out from behind the trunk.

The SUV and the car were gone.

There was still a chance they’d left a man behind. But Max doubted it.

The flipped pickup truck was in flames. The fuel tank had exploded. The men had set it on fire. Large flames licked at the edges of the chassis. It was a tower of red and orange flames, with blue inhabiting the center and trying to get to the top.

The SUV, too, was burning. But it hadn’t yet exploded.

They’d already settled on the fact that they’d be walking from here on out.

But now they were without their gear. And there was no chance of recouping it.

“Shit,” muttered Mandy, standing now beside Max.

“What do you have with you?” said Max.

“Always going right to the practical,” muttered Mandy, fishing through her pockets.

Max said nothing. He was thinking about what he had on his person, which wasn’t much. He had some pemmican in his pocket and a small bottle with a water filter built into it. The bottle was about half-full right now. He had his Glock, his knife, a compass, and a fire starter and some alcohol-soaked cotton balls.

He could start a fire, defend himself, make a trap, know which way he was headed. The pemmican would last about one day. But he knew he could push himself without food for far, far longer than that. He wouldn’t die of thirst so long as he could find a source of water.

Of course, this all depended on what Mandy had with her. He had her to think about, too.

“Um…” said Mandy. “I’ve got… not much…”

“Any food?” said Max.

“Nope,” said Mandy, shaking her head.

She was still checking her pockets, patting each one as if she might find something else.

“I’ve got some caffeine pills,” muttered Mandy.

“No pemmican?”

“It was in the truck.”

“And the maps?”

“In the truck. I’m sorry, Max.”

“We’ll be fine,” said Max, making mental calculations on how many calories might be in the chunk of pemmican he had in his pocket.

They stood there between the barren trees by the highway, watching their truck burning along with most of their gear.

“What are we going to do, Max? Are we still going to try to rescue that kid?”

Max was lost in thought, his gaze fixed on the flames.

Finally, he spoke. “I don’t think we’d be much help at this point,” he said.

Mandy nodded silently.

“It’s time we head home,” said Max. “There are people there who need our help just as much as that kid.”

“He’ll be fine,” said Mandy. But her words sounded hollow. “And we did what we could, Max. We both know it’s too dangerous to keep pushing on.”

Max nodded. “Well,” he said. “At least we know what the world is like outside the hunting grounds. It’s still chaos. Maybe worse than before.”

“Don’t say that,” said Mandy. “This is just one part of the country. Who knows what it’s like elsewhere. Maybe it’s not so violent everywhere.”

“Somehow,” said Max, “I have the feeling it’s the same all over.”

Mandy stepped closer to him, and Max put his arm around her back, his hand on her side, pulling her closer to him.

They were alive. But it was a long walk back to camp.